A hodgepodge of thoughts, ideas and the reality of life.

Pauline’s Dream Revised

Back in August, 2014, I wrote a poem called Pauline’s Dream. You can read it HERE.

For the Day 5 poetry challenge of Fog/Elegy/Metaphor, I chose to rewrite this poem and the words, but tell the same story. For those of you who are not regular readers, my mom is 95 and suffers from the effects of dementia. When Ben suggested fog as a mental state, this was a natural response.

This is the place of my dreams, but it is not

I do not want to be here, in the fog

I cannot see through the grayish cold mist that clouds my vision

The opaque screen hides clarity

My memories are of mother, father, twelve siblings

And the family home by the tracks

Gathering earth on my shoes as I walk through the garden

Watching mother tend to the beans

Inside, the smell of red grapes emanates in an oakish tint from the basement

The odor of dinner drifts gently

My brothers and sisters claim their favorite places

Are you here, sister Jean?

That is where dreams and reality divide and confuse thoughts

How did I become lost in the cold goose gray?

I want to remember today, but the pea soup makes the spoon stand straight

And I remember only 80 years past

Did you know that my brother pee’d down the snowbank

And my sister sold the house?

I don’t want to be in this haze and forget that I bore Mary

She is daughter, not sister

I want to remember the blue eyes of the skin and bones I called husband

Thank you Sam. Mom called me up one evening and wanted to know if I bought super glue. She was concerned about my safety because she remembered this news story of a man who was super glued to a toilet seat. Mom surprises me on occasion with these news flashes. That one, especially, made me smile.

I am overwhelmed by the melancholic beauty in this! “I want to remember the blue eyes of the skin and bones I called husband” gave my chills, and I think “But here I am, in the clear murkiness of 15 humans and their home” is going to stick in my head for the rest of the day. A wonderful piece!

It is, but be happy for mom. She has lived a very long life. Every time I go to see her, I fully expect her to think I’m her sister. One of these days, I’m going to agree and let her keep telling stories.

I humbly take in your wonderful compliment. I have a friend that is doing the same for her mother and Natasha did all that she could for her dad before he passed away. There are many like us…untold stories!